When the room begins to quiet, Rena’s voice slices through the dying raucous. “And so are Ty and I.”
It’s a wonder the roof doesn’t blow off from the thunderous roar the Noire men bellow. They each take turns picking Rena up in an exuberant embrace. Axel and Ryker both have glistening eyes. The joy is beyond anything I’ve experienced. Jubilation paints every corner of the game room, frightening all the dark shadows of the past and present into hiding.
After Ryker fawns over Rena and gives Ty a stern glower with some unspoken warning, followed by a brotherly clasp, Remy jumps into his arms, exhausted from all the socializing. The two of them stride toward me, pulling me into a family hug.
Ryker kisses my hair with a shuddering exhale of concession. “You can take this case, and then we’ll lie low for a while so I can figure this out. I do see you, Merce. I’ll give you everything you want, but not at the expense of protecting you. That’s nonnegotiable.”
“You drive a hard deal, Noire, but I’ll take it.”
Remy mutters something about driving his cars as Ryker offers the correction he can’t resist.
“Bargain.”
I bat innocent eyes at him. “What?”
“The saying is,drive a hard bargain.” He smirks, likely realizing I messed that one up on purpose. And as he smoothsmy hair away from my face, the stress in his is evident. “You win. But let’s not celebrate until the case is over and I know you’re both safe.”
“Deal.”
MERCY
PRESENT
Hadyn’s eyes are flinty, his jaw tight. “Please inform Mr. Wakeford that if he intends to stay on as one of our clients, we expect full disclosure in the future.”
He’s overreacting. There’s no proof that Bryce left out any information, but Judge Nicholson was temperamental today, and the prosecution was fierce. We got the restraining order violation thrown out based on accidental contact. But there had been some dispute about how accidental it was, and Hadyn was caught off guard by some of the arguments and frustrated that the trial had bled into a long second day. I think that has more to do with most cases being a walk in the park due to how deep the Noire connections reach, but there’s no sense in expressing that.
“I’ll handle it,” I assure him as he scurries off to his next appointment, and I make my way back to the defense table, addressing Bryce. “You were lucky that Hadyn thought fast on his feet to get this thrown out. In the future, it would help if you gave us every detail that could be of use. It seems some mayhave been lacking, like the possibility you were aware that Ms. Lambert frequented that bar.”
I could lay into him more, but what would the point be? The case is over, and I doubt he’ll stick with us. We’re a temporary fix for members who need someone in a pinch. Not the attorneys you keep on full time.
“Sorry about that.” He looks crestfallen, despite the win. This whole ordeal probably weighed on him. He glances at his watch before peering over at me, his brown eyes weary. “Do you mind sticking around for a few minutes, regarding another case? It’s complicated and something I was working on with Trafton, but I need to know we’re good here. Still under attorney-client privilege.”
I internally sigh because I’m ready to be done. As much as I fought Ryker about doing this, I’d prefer to get back to La Lune Noire, have dinner with Remy, and finish work from the penthouse in my pajamas. But we’re here, and the mention of Trafton has my interest piqued. Maybe I’ll get some answers about what he wanted to discuss with Ryker.
So, even though I’m exhausted, I offer what I can. “Honestly, I probably won’t represent you in court again. This was more of a favor for Emma and you because you were in a bind. But I’m sure Hadyn will if you need someone, and I’m happy to answer some questions now. Judge Nicholson is done for the day, so I don’t think they’ll kick us out. I can give you a few minutes. And of course attorney-client privilege applies.”
Judge Nicholson and the prosecution are gone, but the bailiff isn’t rushing us off, so we should be okay to stay here.
“Thanks.” Bryce sits back, his shoulders relaxing and his smile both pensive and sheepish. “You are just as considerate as Emma said you were. I don’t know if she mentioned it, but I knew Dalton. Hated the guy.”
It’s not surprising that Emma would have filled him in on what she suspected had happened, but I’m not keen on having a conversation about it, so I keep my response short. “Yeah, well, that seems to be a popular consensus.”
“Right.” He clears his throat, appropriately reading the room and my lack of eye contact. “Anyway, there was this case years ago. I was a foster kid, trying to be adopted as a teen. It’s practically unheard of. Once you get passed over during those early years, you’re usually destined for the system. But I hit the jackpot. This couple ran a construction business and couldn’t have kids. They took me in, and … it was life-changing. Unfortunately, that all came to a screeching halt when my foster mom’s brother was murdered.”
I didn’t expect that and don’t have a great response, so I settle for a simple, “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it was.” He glances around the room, the pain of that trauma evident in every line on his face. “She was devastated, and everything started to revolve around the case, which didn’t go the way she wanted. It led to a sort of war because, apparently, they were allegedly part of a crime family. Ultimately, our house got bombed. My foster father was at home with the flu and didn’t make it out. My foster mom went crazy after that and sent me back to the shelter.”
“I’m so sorry, Bryce.”
He waves me off, pushing through. “It took me a lot of digging to really figure out what had happened. There was so much cover-up. But this is what I discovered: The guy who killed my foster uncle got away with it. He was tried by a dirty judge and deemed insane. All because of the false testimony of a psychiatrist. The guy only got eighteen months in a psych ward and a ticket to a new life. Meanwhile, countless lives were ruined. So, my foster dad had the psychiatrist’s wife killed. And the psychiatrist or someone associated with him from The Orderbombed my house in retaliation, killing my foster dad because he was sick at home.”
The courtroom starts to spin, and the walls pulse as blood flow swishes against my eardrums at an alarming volume. I can barely choke down my saliva. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m getting to it. But actually, let’s jump to something else for a minute.” Bryce appears to have awakened. His spine is straighter, and his cheeks have a richer color. “I met Dalton in high school—at one of the ten schools I attended while switching from home to home. He was an asshole, but someone I figured could be useful at some point. So, I kept tabs on him and eventually swung by a party he was at in undergrad one night.”
He pauses there for effect, likely noting my skin paling. And a million thoughts whip through my mind. He’s about the same age as Dalton was—a few years younger than me—so the school association tracks. But he was talking about my parents a minute ago. So, I’m lost as to how it all correlates.
